


The Beginning of The End

by sorgbarn



Series: For Destiny [2]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Angst, Canon, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-08-27
Updated: 2011-08-27
Packaged: 2017-10-23 03:00:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 20,688
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/245560
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sorgbarn/pseuds/sorgbarn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Merlin must choose between his own desires and the good of Arthur and the future of Albion. He seeks Kilgharra´s advice:" You must do what is best for Arthur, and Albion. It is time to set aside personal affections, personal desires, young warlock. You have shown weakness in the past, ignored my advice and jeopardized the future. Do it no more. The future rests in your hands. Act wisely, and a king greater than has ever been seen will rise and an even greater kingdom will see the light of dawn."</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Beginning of The End

**Author's Note:**

> Many grateful thanks to inallbutwords_x for her great beta. I learnt a lot, used most of your advice, but not all of it, and made some last minute changes, so any and all remaining mistakes are, of course, mine.
> 
> Also,although this is technically a sequel to Lack of Recognition, it can very well be read as a stand alone piece.

# The Beginning of The End

 

“O drakon, e mala soi ftengometh tesd´hup anankes!” His voice vibrated through the air. Despite the time that had passed since he learnt the skill of a dragon lord he had never quite got used to it. It was nothing like the whispers, or even the loud chanting, of spells when he practiced magic. “Erkeheo!” With his hands raised high above his head he fell on his knees to the ice-cold grassy ground.

Enormous oaks and beeches, stretching high up in the sky, created a thick wall of black shadows surrounding the circular glade. It was perfectly shaped, as if formed by magic and not by nature itself. The huge tree crowns, with their almost naked branches, rattled in time with the rough gust of the wind. Merlin shuddered and hid his hands in the folds of his cloak, fingers already stiff from the piercing cold. His ears and nose were angrily red and his lips chipped and bluish. The sky above weighed heavy with rain-filled clouds, so dark it was almost impossible to detect anything up there. The earth stunk of decaying leaves, rotting carcasses and wet dirt and moss, but it was better than the cave.

He looked weary into the sky, trying to decipher any signs of something other than racing clouds. But he heard it before he saw it, the dull, flapping sound of giant wings. And then the creature itself sailed through the air, with the elegance such a big creature should not have possessed, but still did somehow. He could see the black contours of its lizard-like body, pointy wings moving up and down effortlessly, and claw clad paws ready to take ground. It hovered in the air above his head, and then lowered itself to the ground right in front of his crouching figure. It presented itself with the ancient majesty of a magical creature. A small bend to its throat, an inclination of its head and then it inspected Merlin.

“Why have you summoned me, young warlock?”

Merlin rose, still feeling small but not intimidated and lifted his chin in defiance.

“You once said your allegiance was with me?”

“That´s correct. You are my only kin, your word is my command, no matter if I like it or not.”

“I … I need advice on a matter,” He clutched the hem of his cloak to keep his hands from fidgeting, and took a deep breath. “I fear for Arthur´s future, for his sanity.”

“Arthur is the once and future king of Albion. He is to unite the land, with your help. You are but two sides of one coin.” The dragon´s voice rumbled over him stronger than the winds now howling over the landscape.

“I have seen things, things which threaten to destroy him.” He suppressed the urge to cover his face and forced himself to meet the dragon´s scrutinizing look.

“It is your destiny to protect him, now, as it has always been, and always will be.”

“But … what if I´m wrong? These are people I know, people I care about.” He tried to swallow the lump in his throat. Turning to the dragon for advice had not been an easy decision. He had brooded over it for days, and nights, before he rode out to the glade, led by instinct or magic itself, and summoned it. The trust between them was fragile at best.

“You must do what is best for Arthur, and Albion. It is time to set aside personal affections, personal desires, young warlock. You have shown weakness in the past, ignored my advice and jeopardized the future. Do it no more. The future rests in your hands. Act wisely, and a king greater than has ever been seen will rise and an even greater kingdom will see the light of dawn.”

Before Merlin had time to respond the dragon raised its wings, pushed away with its hind legs and lifted into the dark sky. In just a couple of winks it was nothing but a small spot in his field of vision and then gone.

xxXxx

Arthur took his position at the battlements every morning before breakfast and every late afternoon he remained until sunset. From the battlements he had the best view possible of the courtyard, the high gate and the main street, which run in a straight line through the town of Camelot, through the lower town gates and continued outside the city walls. The road eventually led all the way to Mercia, and although Merlin was not in Mercia, this was the way he was bound to travel to get back to Camelot.

 Arthur would have stood there all day long if he could without attracting suspicion, but he couldn`t. Too many cautious eyes followed him as it was already: Uther´s from the sick bed in the royal chambers, which he had not left for weeks, the knights from the training field when he left them early to come here, and even the servants who shook their heads in disbelieve, when they thought he would not see, and shared ill-disguised whispers about odd behaviour behind his back.

The wind blew through Arthur´s coat and tousled his hair. While scanning the castle surroundings he flapped his arms and moved his feet on the spot to keep from freezing.  The first days he had come up here the trees, constituting the woods surrounding Camelot, were still showing off beautiful colours in all shades of red and yellow. Now all that remained were dark brown or almost grey leafs.  A month and almost two weeks had passed since he watched Merlin leave their camp in the forest of Ascetir, and now he feared that the sight of a narrow back and a dark haired head on a sorrel mare would be the last he ever saw of him. After three weeks he had contemplated to return to Ealdor and _make_ Merlin come back.  He turned the idea down only because he had not wanted to make a complete fool of himself, again. Years earlier he had gone after Merlin and his action caused unpleasant rumours among the castle inhabitants. Uther had silenced it before any real harm was made to his reputation, and the curse Arthur had attracted to Camelot by killing the unicorn had helped as well.  He was no longer twenty, childish and foolish actions would not be easily covered, so he sent a paid spy, whom he hired incognito at a busy tavern in town. The man, who wasn´t from Camelot originally, came back after four days to the same tavern only to report that Merlin was no longer in Ealdor. Apparently he had left the village ten days earlier under pretence of returning to Camelot. The information made Arthur sick with worry. He could no longer sleep at night, nor follow council meetings or even less participate as expected. Reports to his father were incoherent, and he was more often than not unable to answer his father’s questions concerning the inadequate reports, though training with the knights had become more fierce and serious than ever before. His fight-sore muscles went numb in the November cold, but if they still ached in the morning the better.

He shot a glance over the courtyard, every catch of a dark brown head of hair and a slim constitution had him hold his breath. Damn it! If only Merlin would come back to him he would abandon all thoughts he had ever had of taking Guinevere as Queen consort. Hell, he would never take anyone for consort. When his eyes filled with tears he pretended it was because of the brisk wind, and if he turned up for the evening meal in the common hall his face slightly bloated and eyes red-rimmed no one said a word to him about it. Since _that_ happened with Merlin, and even in thought he had difficulty putting it in words, he had avoided Guinevere. When he touched himself in the nights of sleeplessness it was Merlin, as he had been, willing and wanton and coming apart in Arthur´s arms, that he saw, never her. It could never happen, he had said so himself, but in Merlin´s absence Arthur was willing to take those words back if only it could bring him home.

Outside the armoury, one of his knights, Gwaine, if the longish brown hair was anything to go by, appeared with a young squire by his side. Gwaine and Merlin got along a little too well in Arthur´s opinion, with Merlin a little too appreciative of the flirtatious looks and innuendo Gwaine always spread around him. He still didn´t know who the other man with Merlin had been the night they had celebrated Camelot´s victory over Morgause and Morgana. Broad, fit and dark haired was how he remembered his rival, and Gwaine certainly fit the description. But so did an unsettling number of men within the castle walls. Arthur had heard Erec the kitchen boy, though not so much of a boy anymore, had asked after Merlin, and he could remember seeing them together in the kitchens and the hallways talking and laughing together, a hand to a shoulder, a nod from a distance while they carried out their chores. Also Lancelot had a special and close connection to Merlin, their interactions calm and serious and quite secretive at times. Arthur knew because he had taken his time watching them over the years.

He leant against the battlements´ wall for a better view. In the centre of the courtyard Lancelot and Elyan just came back from the training field and headed for the armoury. Arthur sighed aloud. Merlin wasn´t the only one Lancelot showed affections for. Guinevere obviously held a special place in the knight´s heart. What was it with the man laying claims to the same people Arthur had done? Could it have been him in a tryst with Guinevere that Merlin had overheard? Arthur hoped not. Lancelot was an honourable man, the best knight Arthur had ever had the opportunity to meet, and not only considering his fighting skills. He had showed courage, fortitude and discipline, by far exceeding any other knight of Camelot. He trusted his life with Lancelot. Still he had seen for himself how Guinevere beamed in his very presence, lending him stolen glances when she thought no one saw. But Lancelot had left, or rather been forced to, and Guinevere had taken a fancy to Arthur, had she not? Women were hard to read, but Merlin had helped him and … he had made Merlin help him. Knowing about Merlin´s feelings for him, he had still made him help. Arthur tried to push away the sudden guilt washing over him. Lancelot was loyal, to him knighthood, serving his Prince came first. And women tended to be more fickle than men.

He hid his hands in his armpits and wobbled his toes in his boots in a new effort to gain some warmth. Time to leave! Merlin obviously was not coming home today either. Arthur let his gaze sweep over the courtyard; only stable boys, a couple of squires and a maid were passing on their way to and from chores. Outside the castle walls the main street simmered with life. Arthur inspected the crowded stream of town´s people, slowly observing each individual heading this way. Halfway towards the town gates he stiffened. The rider was nothing but a dark silhouette on a reddish brown horse, breaking the crowd in a rapid walking-pace. Arthur´s heart beat faster and he caught himself holding his breath. The rider came closer, clothed in a full length, black cloak with a hood covering the person´s head and face. Arthur stared unremittingly as the rider slowly kept his pace towards the castle gates. It could be anyone, but when the dark rider approached and when Arthur no longer could see him because of the thick walls, he crossed his fingers. It had been six excruciatingly long weeks, of which the last three had been pure torture with constant images of Merlin left to die alone, unable to seek help after being beaten half to death by some highwaymen. If the rider was Merlin, he would show him all the proper recognition he deserved.

When the man entered the courtyard and he pulled off his hood, Arthur let out an audible sigh of relief, suddenly feeling pleasant warmth spreading in his inner. It was Merlin, definitely Merlin, with black-brown hair long enough to cover the edges of his ears and nape. Arthur had to cling on to the cold stone wall for a brief moment, suppressing the urge to rush down and run his fingers through that unruly hair.

“It´s Merlin! Merlin´s back!”

Loud and exited voices reached all the way from the courtyard to the battlements. Arthur watched as people gathered around Merlin and the horse. One of the stable boys, a tall dark youth, came up to him and slung his arms around Merlin in a much more affectionate manner than his position would allow. Merlin didn´t seem to mind though, and even hugged the young man back with the same amount of compassion. Arthur gritted his teeth and swallowed, and leant further over the battlements´ wall. Had he been down there he would have told that boy how improper his behaviour was. That was Merlin, Arthur´s Merlin, the future Court Magician. The men were still touching, patting each other´s backs, and Arthur started. He had only considered the castle servants, but Merlin spent an awful lot of time in the stables as well. From above he could not see their faces nor hear the conversation, but it seemed intimate.

When Lancelot and Elyan came out of the armoury, enticed by the commotion in the yard, the stable boy took the reins from Merlin´s hand and led the mare towards the stables.

“Merlin, welcome back!”

Arthur could hear the joy in Lancelot´s voice. Elyan clapped Merlin´s shoulder, and Lancelot took him in his arms and held him close, shook his head repeatedly, stroked Merlin´s hair and cradled his face. Merlin, reciprocated his welcoming, clung on to his friend, threw his head back in joy and showed off one of his brilliant grins. He couldn´t see Arthur, but Arthur saw him, and he looked happy. Hell, he looked happy, probably had been happy all the time, when Arthur had made a fool of himself, worried almost half to death.

xxXxx

He woke bathing in sweat and panting heavily. For a moment he expected to find cold, damp stone under his back and it took a while before he realised he was in his bunk, legs twisted in the bed linen, a faint daylight coming through the small window over his table. He was home, with Gaius, back with Arthur. He really needed to see Arthur. Last night had been turbulent and busy and he had been exhausted from his long journey.

 As soon as he had ridden into the courtyard it had felt as if everyone he knew came running to welcome him home. People he had only spoken to had wanted to touch or hug him as if they could not believe it was actually him. Apparently he was much more appreciated than he had ever been able to imagine. Yet the most important person lacked. He honestly had thought Arthur wanted to see him as much as he wanted to see Arthur. It was all he had thought of since they parted. When Arthur didn´t show up in the courtyard, or visit Gaius’ place afterwards, Merlin put into his head Arthur didn´t know of his return, and meant to go see him as soon as possible. The opportunity never came what with people incessantly popping in to see him and Gaius fuzzing over him, and when the last person left it was far too late to call on the Crown Prince.

Still, it felt awkward as he strode out of the kitchens with the breakfast tray loaded with Arthur´s favourite food. Of course he must have heard of Merlin´s return, after all news travelled fast within the castle walls. Arthur had deliberately avoided him, but why?

He hurried up the stairs, carefully balancing the tray in his hands. The anticipation tingled through his body despite everything and suppressed affection clenched his chest when he knocked at the door. Without waiting for an answer he pushed it open with his shoulder and entered.

“Good morning, Sire- Arthur!” The sight of Arthur on his back in his bed with the cover slung low, barely covering legs and hips, and his night shift riding up and showing off naked skin and trails of dark blond hair on his lower abdomen made Merlin shiver with sudden want. He was perfect, as always, rosy-cheeked, evenly breathing and most importantly unharmed. Arthur´s eyelids flickered before he opened them properly and looked up drowsy with sleep.

“Merlin, is that you?” He pulled himself up against the headboard; the shift slid back down but left more of his thighs bare, smooth, unscathed skin covered with a dusting of golden hair above strong, firm muscles.

Merlin couldn´t help but look. Arthur was in good shape, the old scars yes, but other than that not so much as a scratch … He noted the contours in the shadowed space between his spread legs, shut his eyes promptly and turned in the direction of the table.

“Obviously, yes! And I brought you breakfast. Bread and cheese and ham and fruit, all your favourites.” He laid out the food and poured a glass of water. “All set for you …, sire.” When he finished he dared a glance back at Arthur and was relieved to see he had gotten up and the night shift covered him properly all the way to his knees. The hairs on his calves stood alert in the cool air. The room was quite chilly; the fire in the hearth had burnt out because some negligent servant had failed their duties. The thought strangely angered him. He might be a lousy manservant, but he had never let the fire die down – of course he used magic …

 Arthur pointedly cleared his throat and the sound of it pulled Merlin back. Arthur waited for him to assist his clothing. Who had done it for him while Merlin was away? Another servant, or a different maid each morning?

“Shall I?” Merlin caught a bunch of the shift´s fabric, his hands even with Arthur´s hips and because he bent down a little, his nose in level with the pointy shapes of little, hard nipples shining through the thin fabric. For a moment Arthur looked at him in silence, expression unreadable, and his hands clenching and unclenching, before he turned away.

“No, I´ll do it myself.” He opened the cupboard and pulled out a clean set of clothes. “I did manage these things on my own while you were having a good time in Ealdor.”

The tone in his voice stipulated indifference but somewhat cold, made Merlin flinch. He stepped back and took his position by the table, fiddling with the food and the cutlery while Arthur dressed. Every now and then their eyes met and every time Arthur quickly looked away, feigning complete concentration on the hose or the lacing in his tunic. When he sat down at the table and dug in on his breakfast, Merlin sat down next to him eager to catch his attention.

“Arthur …,” he said tentatively and lent forward over the table into Arthur´s personal space. There were so many things he wanted to tell and others he wanted to ask. Had something happened while he was away? Was he angry or disappointed about something? Did he not want Merlin anymore? Merlin placed his hand on top of Arthur´s and stroked the back of it with his thumb. For a moment Arthur stared at their hands, his breath increased, and then he snatched it away.

“It won´t happen, Merlin. I told you so before, and I will tell you so again if I have to.”

“But why?” Merlin tried to catch his hand again, but Arthur flicked his hand away and kept stubbornly staring at his food.

“ _That_ in the woods did not happen. I´m courting Guinevere now, and if you are here as my manservant,” the disdain in his voice was clear as he continued, “which I presume you are, as you have after all decided to come back, then you will help me pursue her.”

Merlin closed his eyes for a moment, pinched his nose, before he looked back up. “Are you really sure about Gwen?”

Arthur stared in cold silence at first, and when he finally answered he sounded remarkably detached and worryingly calm. “You are not in a position to question my decisions.”

“Are you … are you sure?”

“I can have you put in the stocks for this, Merlin. And don´t you think I won´t do it just because … what´s happened between us.”

“I need to know. I just _need_ to know.”

“Damn Merlin, what´s wrong with you? You´re even thicker than normal. Yes! Yes, I want her. I bloody need her. As a matter of fact, I´ll see her tonight, and I´ll need a suitable gift. See to it, after you´re done here.” He shoved the breakfast plate away from him and rose.

When the door closed behind him, Merlin slumped over the table and rested his head in his arms. The relief together with the vivid joy he had felt last night, and even this morning, from finally being back, had changed into cold fear.

xxXxx

“Guinevere, it was a delicious meal, thank you.” Arthur put down his spoon, wiped his fingers at his hose and settled back in the simple wooden chair. Guinevere cleared the table with assistance from Lancelot. The knight moved around the small space with surprising ease, he and she smoothly passed each other like it was some sort of a well-rehearsed dance, sharing the chores between them without a word, with only the faintest of smiles on their lips, every now and then passing kitchen utensils from one hand to the other´s without as much as a fleeting touch.

“Yes, Gwen is an excellent cook.” Elyan had been the one who tried the hardest to keep conversation going during the supper. “We appreciate your visit, sire. It has been a long time since we had the honour.”

“If only I had known, sire.” Guinevere glanced in Arthur´s direction and blushed. “Then I would have cooked a meal more appropriate for our Prince.”

Arthur shook his head.

“This was perfect, and I mean it.” He had learned his lesson the first time he visited the blacksmith´s house, and things he took for granted then, he no longer did. Thanks to Guinevere – and Merlin – he had learnt more about his subjects and their circumstances in the last four years than he had during his first twenty. Besides, he liked the simplicity of the commoners´ life. For an evening he could forget all about the affairs of the state, threats against Camelot´s borders and his father´s weakened reign. He took a sip of his ale and rested his gaze at Guinevere. Despite being calmer than usual, not smiling as wide as she usually did and not as talkative, she was stunning in her simple gown. It set off her feminine shapes but Arthur could not help himself from comparing her with Merlin: she had a strong back with narrower shoulders than Merlin, who despite his thin frame was fairly broad shouldered, and then her wide, softly rounded hips, where Merlin was slim and angular, hard and bony. For a moment he wondered what it would feel like to fold his hand around her soft breast, already familiar with the touch of Merlin´s flat, firm chest to his, only the thin fabric of their tunics holding hot skin apart. He forced his attention back to Elyan.

“I´ve been busy, but from now on I would like to come by more often … if I´m welcome?” It was a coward thing to ask. There was no way an inquiry from their Prince would be turned down.

“Of course, sire, you are always welcome!” Guinevere turned around from the washing-up bowl facing Arthur, the front of her gown dark with wet spots from splashing water. Elyan nodded likewise. Only Lancelot briefly frowned.

“Gwen, it was a lovely meal, as always.” Lancelot bowed his head, and then turned to Arthur. “I bid you good night, sire.”

“Are you leaving already?” Guinevere walked him the few yards to the door, putting her hand on his arm as if she tried to detain him. “You really don´t have to. We love to have you …”

Lancelot shook his head and looked straight at Arthur.

“I have to get back. I promised to have a drink with Percival at The Rising Sun,” and with those words he opened the door and left.

Arthur immediately relaxed and the words came easy and without a second thought when he spoke about the knights´ training and shared stories of adventures with Elyan, while Guinevere finished the household chores.

“I have to go see to the animals before we call it a day. I rather not have Gwen out in the dark, even if it´s only across the yard. So if you excuse me, sire …”

Arthur nodded and was finally alone with her. He had prepared what to say, rehearsed even, but the words stuck in his throat. He pulled her down on the chair next to him with a tug at her sleeve and took her hand in his.

“Guinevere …” He cleared his throat. “Guinevere, I want us to …” Oh hell, why was he so utterly useless with words. It was so much easier to express in action what he wanted. He put his free hand around her neck, pulled her closer, bent forward and joined their lips. It only lasted a moment, her lips stiff against his, and when she pulled back it could just as well had been a punch in his gut.

“Arthur-  Sire!”

“I apologise. I shouldn´t have … I thought …” He felt his face burn with shame. “Not a very knightly manner, forcing oneself upon a lady. Please forgive me?” A mix of feelings crossed her expression in the time it took him to falter his apology. She pushed her chair further away from him and the table. “I ask your permission to court you properly.”

“I thought … The entire autumn … “ She shook her head and looked miserable. “You let me believe you were no longer interested in me like that.”

“Like I said, I´ve had a lot on my mind. But things are calming down, I would very much like to resume what …” He made a gesture with his hands in the air. “Whatever it was we had, I´d like to have it again. You are the only woman I´ve ever wanted.” It was no lie, but still very far from the truth, which she deserved, but would never get. He knelt in front of her, let his hands caress her soft, warm thighs through the fabric of the gown. “I want you to be my future queen, my consort. Marry me, Guinevere.” He hid his face in her lap, and let himself be soothed by her fingers carding through his hair.

“Arthur! When I see you my heart almost bursts with pride of what a great king you´ll make some day. You´re already great of course, just not - a king. You are the bravest of men, the most handsome and honourable I´ve ever met. But you and I, as long as Uther is alive, it can´t happen.”

“My father´s health is weakened more and more each day. You wouldn´t have to wait forever, Guinevere.”

“You don´t know that. He can live for a decade or more, it has happened before. Even when his gone, I´m still just a maid.”

Arthur looked at her. “No, you are the sister of one of my knights now, it makes you a lady.”

She laughed quietly. “No, I´ll be a lady only by name and one everyone knows was once the maid of the lady Morgana.”

He wanted to retort that, it didn´t matter, but kept silent. This had gone considerably smother in his imagination, and had he been on the battlefield or in a melee he would have known how to turn the disaster to his advantage but now he had no idea what to do. He had been prepared to woo her, to flatter her, even to persuade her if necessary, but he had not come prepared for rejection.

He rose and retreated towards the door. There obviously was someone else, why else would she turn him down? She had been affectionate enough only a couple of months back. It was that other man. Violent anger and humiliation raged through his body, flushed his skin and clenched his muscles. If Arthur had known for sure who he was he would have finished him on spot with his bare hands. He clutched his hooded wool cloak from where it hung off a hook on the wall by the door and rushed out, knocking into Elyan in the yard, before he left the blacksmith´s house behind.

Cold air took the edge off his raging anger, and the dark streets forced him to slow down as he hurriedly strode through town. When passing The Rising Sun he remembered Lancelot´s words and thought he should see the man and give him a word or two on how he felt about his advances towards Guinevere.

The inside of the tavern was crowded, men and women in different states of inebriation gathered around the long tables on simple benches, talking, laughing and drinking. Some tables had small candles, but most of the dim light in the room came from cheaper, smoky wall torches. It made it difficult to spot any familiar faces from just inside the door, where Arthur slumped, hoping no one would recognize him. He let his gaze wander over the busy tables and over by the bar. Maybe Lancelot had never intended to go to the tavern; he had just wanted an excuse to get out of the company. Arthur snorted and pulled the hood up over his head and most of his face, and was just about to leave when one of the patrons bumped into him. Someone patted his shoulder and mumbled an excuse.

“You got to be more careful, Gwaine. No wonder you get into brawls all the time. Not everybody likes an elbow in their back or a jug of ale all over their front.”

Arthur lent against the door frame, cold shivers run all over his body and then he looked back over his shoulder, to get the unnecessary confirmation of what the familiar voices had already told him.

“But I have you here to save me. Right, Merlin?”

Gwaine clung on to Merlin, mouth close to his ear as he chuckled and stroked Merlin´s chin, and Arthur fled.

                                                                                               xxXxx                                                       

Gwaine sobered up remarkably fast once they got out from the tavern, but he still held his arm around Merlin´s shoulder when they silently walked through the pitch black streets of Camelot on their way back. The only living beings they passed were the town´s night guards, whose job it was to separate drunken fighters and warn if there were fires. Gwaine pulled his breath a couple of times as if he was to say something. Merlin had managed  to  stave off any questions or comments regarding their awkward drunken blowjob and wished it would remain a one time-no time event and never spoken of again, but knowing Gwaine, it wasn´t likely.

When they saw the guards Gwaine slowed down until he almost stood still and pulled Merlin in for a friendly hug. “Gwaine, no!” He had been tense before, with only the ale to help him through the evening in a somewhat normal manner, but now he felt like a bowstring ready to break. He worried whether their easy-going relation was lost for ever and if Gwaine looked at him differently, an easy flirt and not a friend anymore.

“Relax, Merlin. What happened was a one-off. I understand that. You are still my friend though. The best I have, and I like to keep it that way.”

Merlin silently let out a sigh of relief, felt his shoulders sag and the dull ache in his neck ease a little.

“I know he went after you, even though the official reason was hunting. So did the two of you work it out?”

Merlin thought about their meeting this morning, and again this afternoon, the contradictory messages he got from Arthur, the offended looks he´d been given, the sudden outbursts of anger. The way he stormed out of his chambers, determined to claim Gwen for his. Merlin´s heart beat faster at the memory of it. Had he asked him not to go? He no longer remembered. Had he told him to forget about Gwen? Or said no good would come of it. Find love elsewhere. Stay with me. He hadn´t though, or he would have been thrown in the dungeons. So he smiled faintly, and shook his head. “I thought we did, but now …” He trailed off, looking back in the direction of town, took a deep breath and straightened. “I will set it right! I know what needs to be done.”

Gwaine grinned and shoved him forward through the gate. “I´m sure you will, but enough about him. How have you been? Six weeks, that´s a long time, what were you up to?”

“Gwaine, I visited my mum, what do you think I did? I´m not like you! I´ve helped my mum around the farm, all hard farmer´s work.”

Gwaine took a step away, waving his finger. “You,” he said incredulously, “doing a farmer´s job? That´s hard to believe!”

“Hey, I do a lot of hard work for Arthur! And I grew up in Ealdor, I´m used to it.” It wasn´t the whole truth, in the village he often used his magic to compensate his lesser muscular strength, but he wasn´t as delicate as one might think from just his looks.

Gwaine let out a rumbling laugh and pulled Merlin in for a hug. “That´s the official version, then?”

“What? No, Gwaine, I really was at my mum´s.”

“You weren´t here, you didn´t see him,” he said, voice sharper, “happier than ever the first few days, then more and more impatient. It´s off record, but I would bet my sword and armour on it, he sent some one back to Ealdor to bring you back, and when you didn´t come he went mad with worry, practically living on the battlements. If you weren´t in Ealdor, where were you?”

Wet, dripping trees, moss-covered giant statues, silence, no forest animals, no birds, no wind hustling through bushes or branches, just dripping water and the sound of his feet on the ground. How had he ended up there? He had ridden for Camelot, yet his horse went there. Magic? And how had he not noticed? When he crossed the entrance intimidated by the huge kings of stone, it was like he was pulled, forced forward by powers he couldn´t resist, and then he had entered and the invisible powers mastered him completely. He shook his head to free himself from the memories.

“Don´t, Gwaine, … just don´t.” He had not meant to hurt Arthur. He had travelled for Camelot as soon as he could and as fast as possible, but did not fully grasp until he entered the castle gates, just how long he had been gone for. And then he thought Arthur wouldn´t care, that he had more important matters to deal with. Why had he underestimated Arthur? Of course he would never just sit back and wait patiently for his return, when had he ever? At least it explained the cool non-existing welcoming he had received. Merlin wished he could confide in Gwaine, tell him about the crystals, about what he had seen and what he had to do.

xxXxx

The sound of metal clashing against metal filled his ears together with the roaring of blood pumping through his body. His field of vision had narrowed down to nothing but his competitor, his feet aware of the slippery, muddy ground beneath, fleeting over every bump and stone, balancing his bodyweight just perfect. Advance – charge – parry – charge – shield. The sword had become an extension of his hand and arm. Every muscle in his body followed his mind´s wishes almost before he imagined them. The helmet lay somewhere in the field, discarded several opponents before. Now his hair plastered to his forehead and the gambeson, soaked in sweat, clung to his skin, and he didn´t even notice.

Lancelot looked tired, and even more so, frightened. He had discarded his helmet as well. For every retreat, every shield he became paler when he should have been flushed red from the extortion. Sweat trickled down his temples, darkened his hair and gathered above his upper lip. He had strokes of mud smeared over his cheek and forehead where he had tried to wipe his face dry.

Arthur charged again. Lancelot lifted his sword to parry, his arm trembling with the effort. A new charge from Arthur made him stumble, and for a moment Arthur thought he had him, but at the last moment he regained his balance. In any other circumstance Arthur would have let him catch his breath a little, but not now. The anger which had driven him to frenzy all morning hadn´t even begun to wear off. It kept him going and going, and it kept him victorious. Every one of his competitors had left the field limping and aching. He had Lancelot at his advantage. He raised his sword arm and launched a finale attack. The blunt blade hit him in the side, just above his hip, and casted him to the ground. The mail protected against serious wounds but this hit would leave a tender bruise for days to come.

Arthur instantly hovered above him, pressed one boot-clad foot in his chest and pointed the tip of his sword at the bare but soiled skin at the hollow of Lance´s throat. “Yield, sir Lancelot,” he roared. “Yield to your Prince.”

For a moment Arthur lifted his gaze from Lancelot still panting too heavily to answer, to the small figure on the slope watching them. It was too late and too cold in the season to sit out here watching the knight´s training, but Merlin came no matter what. Arthur knew he liked to watch, but he would never confess it to his face. Every now and then Arthur put on a show when meeting his knights just to impress Merlin, but today was not like that. The dark figure annoyed him instead. Why couldn´t he mind his own business for once? That traitorous manservant of his!

He pressed the sword harder, the tip of it scratching Lancelot´s skin, causing drops of blood to emerge. The man tried to nod, which only increased the pressure of the blade.

“Yeah …, yeah, I yield to you ... Sire!”

Arthur lifted his sword in the air, proclaiming his victory, and looked around the field. He felt like a predator in search of his next prey.

The knights, more or less worn out and broken, but all affected, sat on benches. He ought to send them to Gaius´ to get patched up, or at least send them off to dinner. He wiped his face with the back of his hand and eyed the grey sky above. The dinner bell must have rung long ago, and they had all been down in this patch of grass since daybreak. They looked as if in shock, unsure how to react to their Prince´s out of control behaviour, not one of them in the position to question his decisions. They would fight until midnight if he decided.

The only one on the benches still fit for another round was Gwaine. He sipped water from the canteen and met Arthur´s look, serious but undaunted. Arthur grimaced, took his sword in hand and pointed it towards him. “You´re next!”

Gwaine rose, pulled his sword from its scabbard and entered the field. For a few moments they circled each other in a low pace, estimating the other. They went for the first blow at the same time, blades clashing against each other and from there on it was raging fury, one blow after the other without pause. They attacked furiously, at an intensity Arthur only used in combats with real enemies. The hatred he felt threatened to blur his mind and he was overwhelmed by the sudden desire to kill the man before him. Hell, he had had his hands all over Merlin, and only the god knew what else he had done to him. Only years and years of training prevented him from turning in Merlin´s direction. Focus, he had to focus, to win this game and show them who was in command.

By now every breath came hard fought for and irregular. His shoulder ached, a dull throbbing pain, and his legs felt like water soaked timber. His mind registered Gwaine´s motions and he could even predict his next move but for the first time today he couldn´t force his body to cooperate and he suddenly felt very, very tired.

Gwaine kept striking and Arthur failed to protect himself. One strike hit him on upper left arm when he was too slow with his shield. The next hit mid-thigh. The third landed at the side of his back and partly beat him breathless. He stumbled, the muddy ground not allowing a good grip. To regain balance he readjusted his bodyweight, waving both his arms and laid his body bare for a finale stroke.

While he waited for that culminating last hit to take him out, too worn to do anything about it, he registered how Gwaine turned his back to him and when he followed his movement he saw what Gwaine saw – Merlin standing on the slope, much closer now than he had been. The moment stretched. What the hell were they doing? And then he knew, knew who it had been on his knees in front of Merlin that night. Without thinking he raised his sword and with all the power he had left launched it towards Gwaine´s unprotected back. It hit with dull thump. Gwaine weighed on the spot, and then fell hard, face first in the mud.

He was about to put his clay covered boot to Gwaine’s back, when Leon gripped his arm and pulled him away. Elyan kneeled by Gwaine´s limp body and then he was shoved off in the other direction with Merlin by his side.

 “Come on, Arthur. You´ve won. You beat every one of them today. Now it´s time to call it off.” Merlin´s voice sounded distant and a little blurred, but he held a steady grip of Arthur´s sword´s arm, apparently trying to unarm him. Why wouldn´t he just get his hands off of him and leave?

 “It´s time to rest and eat.” Merlin just never gave up and when Arthur felt the cold from his fingers to his own he instantly let go of the sword.  Merlin led him towards the armoury and he could hear Leon shouting some curt command to the knights, but was too worn out to care about it.

Arthur crashed on the stool in the middle of the room and remained seated and silent while Merlin, keeping silent as well, stripped him of his armour. The only sound audible was his own laboured breath and the metallic sound of vambrace, couter and rerebrace, pauldron and gorget hitting the stone floor as they were all stripped from Arthur with an efficiency it had taken Merlin years to achieve, but now he could practically do it in his sleep. In order to get the hauberk off, Merlin dragged Arthur up, the grip on his upper arms rougher than usual. As soon as Merlin had pulled the heavy metal Arthur sunk down again, resting his arms against his thighs.

“What was that all about?” Merlin spurted out, anger barely hidden. “I´ve never seen you hit one of your knights from behind before. Not very noble, is it?”

Arthur snorted. Noble had nothing to do with it. _No one_ made a fool of him, went behind his back or tried to deceive him. Honour, pride and reputation were everything. His mind flashed him images: Gwaine in the tavern, his paws all over a squirming Merlin. “It will teach him to watch his back better next time,” he snapped, “instead of you!”

Merlin startled at his words, but refused to give up, instead he kneeled in front of him. “That´s not you. That´s not how the Prince of Camelot I know treats his knights. You are better than that.”

Arthur squinted and bit down hard. His breathing had calmed some, but his face and throat still burnt hot.

“He got what he deserved, no more, no less.”

“You could have killed him with that blow. You really think he deserves that? After all his done for you?”

Arthur snorted again. “Don´t pretend to be more stupid than you are, Merlin. He did it for you!”

Merlin got on his feet and pulled back, his mouth opened and closed. For a moment he was dumbstruck, but not for long. “What about the other knights? What have they done? There was not a man walking off that field today who wasn´t bruised or didn´t limp.”

When his power of speech had returned there was no stopping him. He was right of course. When wasn´t he? Arthur silently let his litany of accusations roll over him.

“It will take the knights days, maybe longer to recover from this training session of yours. For what? You to work off your anger? Lancelot bled! You didn´t just defeat him, you deliberately hurt him. He is the most noble of knights. You should treat him with the respect he deserves.”

Merlin always expected more and better of him, like he was some sort of god or hero from a bard´s tale. But damn it, he was only a man. With regained strength he shot up, shoved Merlin out of his way so hard he ended up on his behind on the floor. “Shut up, Merlin! You know nothing. If Lancelot is to remain a knight of Camelot he better remember where his loyalty should be. If you´re his friend, you could remind him!” He left without looking back.

xxXxx

Being a knight didn´t automatically make you wealthier than before, and since Lancelot came from simple commoners with no land or money he still couldn´t afford a squire of his own. Sometimes Gwaine leant him his, but there was only so much one boy could manage in a day. Therefore Merlin found Lancelot in the armoury cleaning and polishing his amour. He looked up when Merlin entered the sparsely lit room, poured some oil on the rag he held in his hand and then placed the jar of oil on the floor before he returned to polishing the mail. The room smelt metallic, a blend of iron and rust and fat about to turn stale. It smelt of Arthur and Merlin liked it.

“What are you doing here?” Merlin sat down on the low bench next to Lancelot. The air exhaled formed little clouds of white fog and he pulled his cloak tighter around him. From October to March Merlin always brought the armour to his own room or Arthur´s chambers, as did the other squires.

“I could do that for you.” He tapped Lancelot´s knee with his own.

“No, I wouldn´t want you to risk your life for something petty like this. Besides I need some time alone.” He rested his hand in his lap for a moment and looked at Merlin. “Has _he_ sent you?”

Merlin averted his gaze. Lancelot was his friend but Arthur was his destiny, his beloved in need of his help, if he had to choose …

“Yeah. He sent me to remind you of your loyalties. Do you know what he means by that? “

Lancelot reached down and poured some more oil on to his rag. “He came to Gwen´s place yesterday.” He returned his attention to his chainmail and told all there was to tell about the awkward supper. “I excused myself as soon as I could. I didn´t do anything, or say anything to cause today´s fit of rage.”

Merlin thought about Gwaine´s words the other night, and about how he underestimated Arthur both about his Ealdor trip and, earlier yet, his magic. And he thought about the way Lancelot used to look at Gwen, soft and lingering, and how Gwen reciprocated those looks when they thought no one saw. And if he saw it, then Arthur no doubt would see it too, soon if he hadn´t already. And what would happen then? Merlin shuddered. He could never let it happen.

“Arthur is courting Gwen.”

Lancelot frowned. “Gwen doesn´t think he is anymore. Since you left he´s never called on her or spoken to her, in fact he´s been avoiding her. She came to me for help. Merlin, you know me! I would never do wrong to Arthur.”

Merlin paced back and forth between the bench and the door. Lancelot had impressed Gwen the moment she saw him, while her feelings for Arthur had come slowly and over a long period of time. Gwen was easily impressed though. Lancelot saving her from Hengist had practically swept her off her feet with excitement, and Arthur´s achievements in tournaments and melees had her exalted for days, not to mention the effect the mere thought of Arthur being the future king had on her. She was kind-hearted and obviously meant well, but in Merlin´s opinion she was a bit too prone to go any way the wind blew. Lancelot on the other hand was committed and faithful to his goals and his honour.

“Remember when you first came to Camelot?”

Lance nodded, sweeping the cloth over his mail. “I saved your life.”

It was not the answer Merlin had intended, but true. He owed Lancelot his life, and he had proven to be a good friend more than once. He trusted him with his magic and turned to him for help when in time of need, but Kilgharrah´s words still rang in his head. It was time to set aside personal affections and personal desires. The dragon had warned him about Morgana, more than once, and he had ignored it because he wanted to be good, do the right thing. And look where that had brought them!

“Remember how you always had wanted to be a knight? Now you are a knight of Camelot and you owe that to Arthur!” He proceeded, aware that Lancelot stared at him, but refused to meet his gaze. “Arthur made you what you are today; he has done what no other royalty would do. Without him you are nobody.” Merlin flinched at his own harsh words, wondering where they came from. “You swore his fealty. His wish is supposed to be your wish. His command, yours. His life, your life.”

He heard the clang of metal as the chainmail fell to the floor, but not a word of the objections Lancelot raised reached him.

“For Camelot and for your future King, Gwen is not yours to claim, Lancelot, or console if that´s how you prefer to put it. She belongs to Arthur. You must stand back. Or Arthur will make you.”

“Merlin! Merlin!” Lancelot shook his shoulders, trying to get his attention. “You can´t be serious, I´m your friend. I´ve kept your secret for years. I came when you called for me. I was there for you when he wouldn´t recognize you. This is not you. Not the Merlin I know. The Merlin I know doesn´t run his dirty errands.”

For a moment he wanted to take every word back, but then he envisioned a berserk Arthur or even worse, a Morgana mad for power at the throne of Camelot once more. He had to do it because the alternative would be worse. He steeled himself and lifted his chin in defiance.

“I´m doing it for Camelot.” For Arthur, he wanted to scream, for the love of his future King. “And so will you.” When Lancelot´s grip loosened, he fled out the door.

His heart raced when he reached Arthur’s chambers, still he felt as if his body had been drained of all its blood, every limb frozen and heavy as lead. He hadn´t felt this bad about something he had done since he tried to poison Morgana, and she had been truly evil, Lancelot was not. He gulped, tongue like a piece of barky wood in his mouth. _Lance, all strong arms and legs, sweat glistening, olive skin, thick brown, bed-tousled hair and lean butt._ He forced the image away. Arthur was waiting. He compelled his trembling hand towards the door knob, but it slumped back by his side, and he rested his forehead to the wooden surface of the door. Arthur would want a bath. He would have to help him out of his boots, his tunic and under tunic, his hose and braies, help him rub his firm back and wash his golden hair. He would have to put his hands on well-defined muscles and sweep his fingers over that taut body. He pressed his eyes shut and concentrated on breathing. From behind the door came the scraping sound of a chair pulled back, followed by the clatter of something breaking. He braced himself and then pushed the door open.

xxXxx

Despite aching muscles, a heavily bruised thigh and a strained shoulder Arthur still seethed with anger. The glass shattered from the wine canter lay spread in front of the chamber doors. But wrecking something expensive had done nothing to sooth him. For a moment he wished Merlin had entered when he threw it. That would have served him right. Had it not been for him, Arthur would never have left Camelot to go after him, never confessed his feelings and therefore still be courting Guinevere, successfully, no doubt.  She had been heads over heels in love with him, or at least a little besotted, before Arthur recognized his manservant for what he really meant to him. And what good had that done him? Nothing! Nothing at all. He was the Crown Prince of Camelot, first knight of the realm and brought up to be a cunning war strategist. People were proud to serve him, to satisfy his every whim - everyone but Merlin that was. Merlin never paid him the right amount of deference, if any at all, and now his bad behaviour obviously tainted the others as well. And he kept him waiting. How long could it take?  

When the door did open, Merlin halted in the doorway, looked at the shards of glass in front of him and then at Arthur.

“What is this?” He wavered his hand, voice tired. “It´s dangerous. Someone can get hurt. Glass cuts make nasty wounds.”

Arthur scowled at him, clenching his hands till his knuckles turned white, while his manservant took out a broom and swept the sharp pieces of glass out of the way.

“Shall I help you with your bath?”

Two lower servants had already brought out the tub and filled it with buckets and buckets of water. “It´s cold. You kept me waiting too long.” He could have bathed without Merlin´s assistance, but he liked having him around. Ever since they met, the bathing ritual had been Arthur´s favourite. It had not taken many evenings for him to realise what an impact he had on the young peasant boy, who blushed and sweated and shifted his gaze when Arthur undressed, and then let his gaze linger too long when he thought Arthur couldn´t see. He soon made a habit of walking around his chambers bare-chested on recurrent occasions only to enjoy the effect it had on Merlin.

“I´ll heat it up for you.” Merlin walked over by the tub next to the hearth, held his hand over the water surface. “Onhæte tha wæter.” Steam rose from the tub.

Arthur discarded his boots and vest, and then Merlin unbuckled his belt. Arthur had carefully kept a distance of propriety between them since Merlin´s return, too afraid of his own reaction to the man´s touches. Now the feeling of Merlin´s cold fingers through the tunic fabric had him gasping. The immediate urge was to pull back and press forward simultaneously, when Merlin raised his hands to the tunic lacing, his fingertips brushing the light dusting of hair on his chest. Arthur wondered if Merlin could feel his heart pounding, and swallowed before he lifted his head to meet Merlin´s intense, blue gaze.  Merlin responded with a faint smile and lifted the tunic by its hem over Arthur´s shoulders and head. Hands and fingers brushed over his torso and arms, and he could feel Merlin´s breath, warm and ticklish against his throat. A rush of blood heated the lower parts of his stomach, his thighs and crotch and he wanted to buck into Merlin, grind against his hips, and touch him everywhere. They were too close, he couldn´t think straight. It had never been like this before; he had always had the upper hand in this game. Now it was like he had no control of himself.  When Merlin slipped his finger´s beneath the waistband to untie the string holding hose and braies in place, Arthur flinched back and bolted for the screen.

He panted hard, fumbled with the strings and pulled hose and braise off in one rapid movement. Cool air did nothing to his hard, proud cock. He swallowed hard while waves of unrefined want rolled over him, and he pressed his damp hand to his crotch. Why couldn´t he control himself anymore? He hadn´t had this problem since he was a young boy just becoming aware of the pleasures men and women were able to give him.

“Arthur? Arthur, are you coming?” Merlin´s voice sounded low and far away, a little anxious, and after a silent moment: “If you want to … with me, you know. I´d like it too.”

Hell, he knew. He had seen, or he had … he had made it happen!

“No! I told you. I want Guinevere. No one else.” And then: “Is that why you´re doing this to me?”

Merlin´s breath hitched and the silence that followed seemed to last for ever. When the answer finally came it was only a faint whisper. “I´m doing nothing …”

“You want me to believe that? You´re the sorcerer. And you are obviously jealous of Guinevere. Maybe you´ve put a spell on me.” He stepped out in the room and showed himself. “I think you are responsible for _this_.” He waved his hand to make his point.

 Merlin inhaled loudly, eyes full-blown and dark, tongue darting out, licking his lower lip, and shook his head. “You don´t believe that,” he said, voice still low and scratchy.

 Arthur covered the ground between the screen and the tub in a few strides and got into the perfectly heated water. It was heaven to his sore limbs. Merlin knelt by the tub, rubbed a wet cloth with soap and swept it leisurely over Arthur´s chest over and over and over again. The pressure of the soft cloth and firm hands on his body felt agonisingly good. If he was enchanted by Merlin it was his own doing. His mind and body all too well remembering how good it had felt with Merlin, and now it asked, no begged, for more.

“Merlin.” The anger had gone, but his tone was dark and husky. “You shouldn´t.”

“I want to. I want to touch you, and I know you want it too.” He slipped the cloth further down over Arthur´s stomach, circled his navel and stroked his hips, one with the cloth and the other with his palm. Arthur closed his eyes and leaned into the touches. “It doesn´t have to go any further. Just let me touch.” Merlin´s voice was calm and steady, accompanied by the low splashing of water as he moved his hands over Arthur´s body. “Everything will be fine. You are not alone. You´ve got me. And Lancelot will come around. He´s a good man.” Arthur had known the moment Merlin recommended Lancelot to him that the man would be good. And he had been. He could have stayed in Camelot under the pretence of having killed the griffin. Still he had chosen the honourable way and he would do it again, Arthur was sure of it.

The cloth swept over his arms, the outside of his thighs, the bruise burnt with fire, and it took several moments before Arthur realised Merlin had used magic on him. The cloth glided over Arthur´s knees and inner thighs in slow back and forth motions. Merlin dragged the cloth along the slit where thigh met buttock, and nudged the sensitive skin behind his tightening sac. Arthur´s thighs trembled with restrained tension when Merlin´s fingers swept even farther back. The touch compelled Arthur to spread his legs and sink deeper into the water, canting his hips against those lingering fingers.

“If you are absolutely sure about Gwen, then I´ll help you. I´ll talk to her. She will listen.”

“I am.” Arthur spluttered between ragged pants. “I don´t know what I´ll do if she keeps refusing me. I need her.” He opened his eyes again, staring at Merlin´s naked lower arms, wiry muscles and pale skin covered with darker hairs. Merlin´s eyelids were half-closed, cheeks and throat red-blotched, lips parted. Arthur tried to focus through the haze of heady arousal swimming his head, but Merlin still had his hands between his thighs and he didn´t have to bend over the edge of the tub and see the bulge tenting Merlin´s braies to know he was hard too.

He arched up to brush his cock against Merlin´s hand. And when Merlin encircled his shaft and slipped the foreskin back and forth with a little twist from his thumb and index finger over the head each time, Arthur tried to envision Gwen, naked and pliant under him making him come apart. But Merlin´s scent: musky sweat, weapon´s oil and a faint reminder of stables and the sounds he made,  earnest and heavy breathing, skin flapping as he worked himself and water splashing as he did the same to Arthur made it impossible. He leant forward, clutched his arms around Merlin´s neck and mouthed him, desperate, sloppy, toothy, sucked and licked. When they broke apart he panted: “Maybe you could enchant her?”

Every movement stilled and every sound faded away. Merlin jumped to his feet faster than Arthur thought possible for a man only moments from coming apart.

“No. No, absolutely not. If she is to marry you, she must do so of her own free will. Anything else will be disastrous.” He kept his voice low and levelled while tucking himself back in and moving backwards towards the door. “I will help you, if you think it´s what you need to be happy. I´ll do it, but not like that.”

The bang of the door closing behind him rang in Arthur´s ears. Merlin didn´t get it. It didn´t matter what he wanted or what made him happy. All that mattered was Camelot, and what made Camelot and her people happy. And they needed a queen, and eventually heirs.

xxXxx

“Merlin?”

He heard her voice at the same time he felt her hand on his arm, and turned to meet her careful smile. The crowd of people gathered in front of the market stall fought to get closer and pushed Gwen and him together and into the narrow street again. Merlin barely had the time to deliver the small jar of liniment for sore backs to the stall owner, one of Gaius´ old patients, before the crowd closed in front of him.

“Gwen,” he greeted. Merlin hadn´t spoken to her since before Morgana´s fall, and had deliberately postponed a call to her house. Maybe Arthur was right? Maybe he was jealous of the way Arthur choose her over him, and not only secretively but in the presence of his knights as well. It hurt, but also scared him. What it would do to Arthur if he didn´t get his way. If Gwen chose differently? He had woken up more than one night since his return with the vision of her in the back of his head. _Gwen´s face flushed, neck arched, mouth open and panting._ He squeezed his fingers to his temple. After his little talk to Lancelot, a meeting with Gwen felt even more uncomfortable. Although the dragon had warned him against not taking action and his promise to Arthur days ago that he would talk to her, he had put it off. Had Lancelot talked to her? He knew Arthur had kept visiting the blacksmith´s house and kept coming back more tense and growling louder each time. The glares he received after a visit made him hunch and crawl like a coward aware that anything he said or didn´t say would be enough to upset him even more, and the more than occasional punch to his arm or clap at his back showed no sign of the usual camaraderie. Arthur bathed alone, dressed and undressed alone. Last night though Arthur had him pinned to the door with such a blind fury Merlin still felt the aching bump at his back head. For a moment he had thought Arthur would ravish him on the spot, breath heavy, and hands greedy for naked skin. At the sound of Merlin´s tunic ripping he had shoved him to the floor and with an angry shout ordered him out of there. The red tunic still lay on the floor beside his bunk in need of a thorough mending before he could wear it again.

 “I didn´t know you were back.” She looked him up and down and folded her arm around his, as if she suspected he would run if he had a chance. “Have you been avoiding me? Not that I am accusing you … I´m sure you have better things to do … but it would be nice if you came by for a meal. You´ve always been a good friend. I miss you, and Elyan would like it …”

Merlin shrugged. “Arthur´s been seeing you.”

Gwen fiddled with the basket on her arm and sighed.

“He´s changed, Merlin. It is as if I don´t know him anymore. Like he´s on a quest or preparing for battle.”

“He has a lot on his mind.”

“He said as much. Still it´s like he´s here but … somewhere else.”

“His days as Prince are coming to an end. With Uther this weak, he´s shouldering a king´s responsibility already. And the threat of Morgana isn´t gone, just on hold, it seems.”

“I know, it´s just … I miss the Prince. He used to look at me in this shy, secretive way. It made me feel special. Oh, I shouldn´t be talking about this!”

No, she really shouldn´t. Hearing her confess her feelings for Arthur made his stomach roll sickeningly. He wanted to shake her hard and maliciously hurt her, force her to see clear what a lying harlot she was. But how could he, when she wasn´t even aware of what she could do to Arthur?

“He needs all the support he can get. And he counts on you, Gwen.”

“When he held me and kissed me in front of the knights I thought ... and I was so happy, Merlin. When you left he stopped coming by, he stopped talking to me and he stopped giving me those special looks.”

“Arthur is thinking of Camelot first. The decisions he takes now will affect the future of the whole kingdom. Arthur wants you by his side.”

She shook her head and turned away, teary- eyed. “I know what he wants. I just don´t know if I can give it to him.” She hesitated. “You know Lancelot, Merlin. You like him too. When he returned I … I can´t tell heads from tails anymore. And Lancelot is always here for me when I need it. We are the same kind and I know he loves me. He doesn´t have to say it. But he does.” She poured her hearts content at him and he resisted the urge to squirm, he was not her lady friend. “With Arthur … it´s complicated.”

Merlin silently agreed. Lancelot loved her, since the first time he laid eyes on her, but he would have to settle for a more chivalrous form of love, staying true to his vows of fealty. He put his arm around her shoulders and walked her along the crowded street towards the castle. The mud in the street had frozen during the night but was thawing now, staining their boots and Gwen´s gown.

“You´ve been my friend for a long time, and I wouldn´t ask this of you if it wasn´t important. Arthur needs you. Without you he´ll be lost. Do it as a good friend to him, and if that´s not enough for you, do it for Camelot. It´s your duty as her subject.”

They both looked at the ground under their feet, trying to avoid the worst filth and mud. Gwen stiffened under his arm.

“Think of Elyan, think what it would mean to him if his sister married the King.” If he couldn´t persuade her she would end up with Lancelot and Merlin just could not let that happen. If he had to, he would even consider magic, but if it went that far Arthur must never find out. “Do it for me. I saved your father´s life once.” He heard her gasp.

“That was you?”

He nodded. ”Gaius helped of course,” he lied. It was a huge leap, trust your life with the person you were about to betray. They were almost at the castle gates.

“I don´t think he loves me anymore. I think there might be someone else.” She looked at him, brows pulled down, mouth just a thin line, and Merlin forced himself to steady his gaze when meeting hers.

“You´re wrong. There is no one else. I would know. I´m the one who waits on him every moment of the day. If you marry him both yours and Elyan´s future will be secured.”

 “You don´t understand, Merlin. You´re not a woman so I can´t expect you to understand. It´s something about the way he acts. Like he tries too hard. I didn´t notice before but since Lance came back…”

“Lancelot came to become a knight of Camelot,” Merlin said, his voice hard and stern. “If you care about him, like you say you do – don´t stand in his way.” Merlin pressed his lips together and had to bite his tongue.

 Gwen shook her head and squirmed under his arm. “But … Lancelot could still … and I would never …”

From the corner of his eye he saw Arthur coming through the gate. “Of course not - never deliberately.” He paused. “I know you will do what is right, Gwen.”

“Guinevere. Merlin.” Arthur bowed his head to greet them.

Merlin took his arm from Gwen´s shoulders in an instant. It wasn´t his usual behaviour putting his arms around people in an intimidating manner, this however had required every stratagem. He lowered his head in pretend reverence, knowing it would rile Arthur, and the urge to annoy him quickly became stronger than anything else. He helped to clear the way for him in his quest to woo Gwen, it was inevitable, their destiny depended on it, but he didn´t have to like it.

He turned away, watching his muddy boots with an abnormal interest while Arthur looked wide eyed and smiling at Gwen. He resisted giving in to the lump in his throat and instead swept the black cloak tighter around him, and deliberately hid his hands in its many folds.

 “Arthur.” Gwen rewarded him with a wan smile and curtsied. Her hand fiddled with the fringes of her shawl, her gaze wandering from the Prince to the town. The silence made them all fidget and weigh back and forth on their feet.

“So,” Arthur and Gwen started at the same time and then fell silent once again.

“I´m going back home. I only came here to accompany Merlin,” Gwen looked pointedly at him, then excused herself to Arthur and turned back the same way they had come.

“Wait! I´ll come with you.” Arthur hurried along after her.

Merlin stayed on to see him catch up with her. They made one impressive couple even from behind, both tall and stately, moving with vigour, he being fair and she dark. Arthur´s red coat stood out among the town people´s grey and brown garments, allowing Merlin to follow them for a long time before he lost them in the crowd. Like this, shoulders barely nudging, Arthur´s hand seeking Gwen´s, quick glances and faltering small talk … destiny asked a lot of him. He had done what Arthur had asked of him, and he had followed the dragon´s advice – everything for Arthur and Albion. Maybe he should ask the dragon why destiny demanded of him to endure the love of his life in the constant presence of someone else. Would it ever not hurt seeing them together? He doubted it. Did the dragon laugh at him? The dragon could have played one of his tricks on him, it wouldn´t be the first time. If instead of ushering Gwen into the arms of Arthur he had supported her fling with Lancelot, he could have had Arthur to himself. The crystals could have lied to him. The crystals were treacherous, Gaius had warned him and he knew from his own experience as well.

When he turned around to enter the castle grounds, his face ached in an attempt to control his expression. Still his view blurred and he could feel the foul taste of iron in his mouth. _Gwen on her back in the hay, arms and legs rapped around Lance´s sweat glistening naked body, his arse in the air, slowly pumping up and down. By the barn door, Arthur, face dark red, gritting his teeth, whitening clenched fists and hovering behind him a dark shadow of someone else._ It was someone important, someone familiar; the memory lingered in the back of his mind, just barely out of reach.

xxXxx

Arthur leant back in his chair, rested his left foot on his right ankle and watched Guinevere clear the table. Candles on the table lit the small room, as did the open fire in the hearth. Ever since that disastrous one time Lancelot had kept away whenever Arthur had come to visit, but this was the first time since what felt forever it was only he and Guinevere.

Merlin had reluctantly gone with him when he requested help carrying Guinevere´s gift. But instead of staying for supper, as she had suggested, he bid Elyan to come with him to the tavern. The two men could not have left faster if the house had been on fire and neither of them had looked behind, leaving Arthur dry mouthed and quiet. The gift had been Merlin´s idea.

“You should bring Gwen a gift.” Merlin tied the string in Arthur´s red thin-worn tunic. The simple tunic was Merlin´s idea as well – because the colour suited him and its worn fabric would make Gwen feel more at ease, and it went well together with the brown hose, he had argued. He´d look good in a commoner´s style. Though Arthur suspected it was Merlin´s personal choice of clothes for him, if his sweeping touch to the lacing and Arthur´s own chest was anything to go by. For a moment he wondered what it felt like dressing him up only to send him away into someone else´s arms.

“It´s not often, but once in a while you actually have a decent idea or two. Jewellery, someone once told me women fancy that. Can´t recall who it was though,” he mocked. “Maybe a bracelet or a necklace?”

Merlin pursed his mouth and shook his head vehemently. “Jewellery worked for Morgana. Gwen´s nothing like her. You will have to come up with something else.”

“Why do I sense that you already have the answer?” Arthur scowled as Merlin returned from the other end of the room with his sword and scabbard. “Come on, let it out. I know you want to.”

Merlin let him wait while fastening the belt. Then he straightened his shoulders and looked Arthur in the eyes. “That shawl she wore the other day didn´t look like it would suffice a cold winter.”

“You think I should give her clothes? She will think I´m belittling her. Unless… Most of Morgana´s clothes are still in her chambers. She had this magnificent mantle, Pendragon-red with fur-lining. You should go get it!”

“Arthur, I don´t think Gwen will appreciate hand-me-downs. And besides, when could she wear a royal mantle? While doing errands?”

“Fine. What´s your suggestion?”

“There´s several yards of thick woven wool and some rabbit fur, enough for a hood or collar, in the linen store room.”

“You´re inclining she´ll make her own garment?”

Merlin shrugged. “She is a seamstress after all.”

The gift had been a success and earned him a spontaneous hug and conversation lasting the major part of dinner, until Guinevere realised she babbled and then spent the other major part of the dinner making excuse for her babbling.  

One could say the gift loosened their tongue-ties and dinner had gone vastly better than expected, in fact he had not had such a good time in her company since the pic-nic abruptly ended when Morgana and Uther found them. He burnt with embarrassment when he thought of it. Still it wasn´t half as bad as it would be if someone caught him in an equally compromising situation with Merlin, yet he couldn´t stop thinking about it, being in a compromising situation with him that was. What did it make him when he lay awake with thoughts of Merlin in the nights but yet could enjoy Guinevere´s company in the day, although a little distracted at times? A decent, responsible future king, he concluded, and forced away any lingering thoughts of Merlin.

“Do you remember when you lent me roof over my head, the first time I was here?”

She turned to face him and nodded, a little flushed.

“You taught me about my people. Without you I´d still be that ignorant-”

“Merlin taught you about your people,” she interrupted, earnest again. “Without him, you would still be hiding in your castle, only socializing with other nobles and you would never have come here that time when you needed it.”

“Yeah, I guess Merlin has done one or two good deeds in his years, but being my manservant isn´t one of those.” The image of Merlin kept clouding his logic, he needed to change the subject. “That´s when I first noticed you, when I stayed here, I mean.”

Guinevere sat down on the chair next to him. He took her hand in his and she caressed the back of it.

“I´m sorry about the bed.”

“You were forgiven a long time ago. How could you have known?”

“Still– it was rude. And I have wronged you in even more ways.”

She shook her head, lips tight pressed together, when he cradled both her hand in his.

“I was wrong not to intervene with your father´s execution.” She closed her eyes; a single tear stuck in her lashes and then slowly rolled over her cheek. He wiped it off with his thumb. “I did wrong and I apologise for that.”

“I can´t forgive you for that, Arthur – you did nothing wrong.”

Wasn´t that his wrong? He had done nothing and for that he wanted her forgiveness, though he understood today would not be the day she gave it, but maybe later, he hoped.

“You´re a good man, Arthur, I mean- not that you are without faults or anything.” She tilted her head and gave him a wry smile.

“What about Lancelot? Is he without faults?”

She looked taken aback and narrowed her gaze. “He´s an honourable man and he serves you well, don´t you ever forget that.” There was new edge to her voice.

“If you were a man, Guinevere, I would have knighted you. You have all the qualities I require of my knights: courage, loyalty, fortitude. In that aspect you are quite a lot like Lancelot. I can´t make you a knight, but I would still like you to serve Camelot as my queen.” He put his finger to her mouth.  “You don´t have to answer now. But I need a woman I can trust to stand by my side no matter what happens in the future. I think you are that woman, Guinevere.” He reached for a ringlet of her hair and twirled it around his index finger, letting his other fingers brush the soft skin of her neck. “You tell me the truth when others tell me what they think I want to hear. And you treat me like any other person. To you I could be a carpenter or a smith just as well as the Crown Prince.”

“Oh Arthur, You know as well as I do, Mer-” He leant forward and closed the space between them, quieting her with his lips to hers. Merlin was like that too, he just needn´t hear it, not now. They pressed their closed, dry lips together, Arthur let his hands rest on her hips and then she opened up a bit, only lips, no tongue he made sure of that. It was too intimate, too much associated with Merlin. There had been plenty of tongue when they had kissed, tongue and teeth and spit, licking and biting too, it had been carnal, not chaste like this, and he liked to keep it that way.

“You are important to me, Guinevere. Would you at least think about it?”

She reached out and grazed his lower lip with her fingers. “I will, you have my word.”

He took the path towards The Rising Sun. Surely Merlin could use a shoulder to lean on. Everybody knew what a lightweight he was regarding ale and wine. And Arthur needed someone to process the evening with. Compared to his other visits it had indeed been successful, but the tingling feeling of romance, what they had had last spring and even during the summer, somehow didn´t present itself. He had let himself be led astray by big blue eyes, long black lashes, cheekbones to die for, wiry limbs and long strong fingers. Even now when he should be thinking about Guinevere; she was a perfectly beautiful woman, but still she wasn´t like Merlin – she wasn´t breath-taking. He had handled breath-taking for four years, he had fantasized  while stroking himself into moments of carnal bliss, he had teased and mocked and Merlin had given as good as he got. It had been enough. Now his mind and body craved for more.

Four, five yards from the tavern door he discovered Elyan coming out and halted.

“Sire! I almost didn´t see you.”

“Likewise. Is Merlin still inside? Does he need a hand to make it back?” Arthur snorted to make it clear to Elyan what a useless manservant he had, who couldn´t even handle his drink.

“No, Merlin only had one ale. He left ages ago.” Elyan looked in the direction of the castle as if he should still be able to see the back of Merlin. “He wasn´t his usual chipper self. Seemed a bit crestfallen, to tell the truth.”

It wasn´t disappointment that hit him. One does not get disappointed at the news of one´s manservant already at home and probably in bed, asleep. And it wasn´t worry or guilt, because why would it be? His position to Merlin was of no such kind it should render feelings of the sort. He was only a goddamn servant! Possibly some kind of friend, a magician, … someone he owed his life. It wasn´t that. He gritted his teeth and swallowed hard. But it was something because it took Elyan two attempts to get his attention back.

“Did you and my sister have a pleasant evening?”

He only nodded in response and bid him good night.

xxXxx

Merlin rested against the wall in the further end of the crowded room. He had kept a blank face throughout the ceremony and tried hard not to listen to the actual words. In front of him the Pendragon red dominated his vision. The five knights of Arthur´s round table all clad in their ceremonial capes and full armour complete with weapons stood in a half-circle in front of the man they sworn fealty and his future queen.  He resisted the urge to look away. Despite the fact they all had their backs at him, someone would notice. It couldn´t happen. This was a day of celebration and happiness.

Arthur took Gwen´s hands, his own big enough to almost cover them completely. He knew how they must feel against hers, rough and calloused, firm and warm, almost burning hot, or maybe that was just because his own hands were always cold, and Gwen´s hands were warmer so she wouldn´t feel it. They faced each other, Arthur in the same attires as his knights; they had must smuggle it out of the castle and he had helped Arthur get dressed in the cowshed; and Gwen wore a stunning new gown in different shades of blue, with a white linen chemise underneath, her black hair partly held together in a high placed knot on the back of her head and the rest of it curling over her shoulders and back. She looked more beautiful than ever and for a moment he wished she didn´t. Arthur looked at her with an intensity Merlin had never seen, the gaze not diverging one single inch throughout the ceremony. Gwen tried to keep hers as steady but every now and then she strayed off towards the knights gathered in the cramped room.  

“I will take thee, Guinevere … as my wife …”

The sounds of the words came and left as Merlin tried to block them out. He didn´t have to listen, he knew well enough what they had to say. The hand-fasting was a common enough procedure in Ealdor. He had witnessed a few as a child together with his mother both smaller and bigger events than this one. When Arthur had given his vows, it would be Gwen´s turn. The contract had already been drawn and signed. He and Arthur and Gaius had made it together. Arthur and Elyan had signed it, and Gaius sealed it with the Pendragon seal. Had it been an official betrothal it would have been Geoffrey of Monmouth drawing the contract and Uther to seal it. Not that it mattered now. Once the vows were spoken they were legitimate. The fact they had witnesses didn´t change anything, but if it came to Arthur´s or Gwen´s word against, say, Uther or any of his chancellors, it definitely strengthened their side.

He closed his eyes for a brief moment and then had to open them again as everyone shifted places, shuffled over the simple wooden floor. Leon and Percival put the table at its ordinary place in the middle of the room. Gwen hurried over by the workbench and with the help from Elyan quickly presented jars of ale and pots and plates of carefully prepared food. It smelt of garlic and onion, pork and chicken, which would normally make his mouth water with anticipation but now only made him nauseous. Had there been any acceptable excuse for him leaving he would have used it. From across the room he met Gwaine´s questioning look and he quickly averted his own. Gwaine saw straight through him and right now that made him feel even worse.

Lancelot, his face pale and a bit shiny, his mouth a thin line and jaws tense, accepted the cup of ale offered to him by Arthur. He had effectively kept his distance to Merlin ever since that night in the armoury. A burst of anger or verbal accusations would have been a thousand times better than the expressionless face, with its sad eyes, that met him in the courtyard, in the training field or even in the great hall. Arthur had noticed, but, thank god, not mentioned anything about it. Gwaine had noticed as well, and the only reason he had not yet asked about it was because Merlin childishly pretended to be occupied whenever the subject was likely to be approached.

“Here!” Gwaine placed a cup in Merlin´s hand. “Time to raise our cups in honour of the happy couple.”

Everyone exclaimed a unison cheer and Arthur bent down and kissed Gwen. When Merlin turned away he found himself nose to nose with Gwaine.

“What have you done, Merlin?”

“Nothing! Why do you think I´ve done something? After all that is your speciality.”

“Maybe you can fool Leon, Percival and Elyan, but I´m your friend. Lancelot shuns you like a leper. And Gwen, all narrow eyed and slumped whenever she looks in your direction. You´ve done something.”

He tried to shake his head, bent his neck, and took a step backwards. “No,” he whispered.

“Is he worth it?” Gwaine leant in closer, his breath sweeping over Merlin´s cheek. “It´s one thing to sacrifice your life for him in battle or defending his Kingdom, but sacrificing your friends is something else.” He shook his head and his long hair brushed against Merlin.

“I haven’t sacrificed anyone.”

“You have sacrificed their friendship as far as I can see.”

“It´s not what it looks like. I … I did it for everyone´s good. It had to be done.”

Gwaine swept his thumb over Merlin´s stubble, followed the sharp line of his jaw. “You are my friend, Merlin. I don’t want to see you hurt because of him. He´s not worth it, no noble ever is.”

“No, Gwaine. He´s worth it.” He´s got to be worth it, he thought, or everything had been in vain. “I´ll do anything for him, just as you will.”

“It´s not the same. I have the knight´s codex to honour, besides I´ll go my own way if he turns into a prince or a king I can´t agree with. You on the other hand are not bound by any codex. You don´t have to follow his orders.”

“You´re right. It´s not the same. But I do it willingly. I do it for love.” He glanced at Arthur and Gwen now seated at the high end of the table with only eyes for each other. If he had made Arthur happy, it was all worth doing, even if he had to suffer.

“Love blinds. Take care or it will be your death.”

When Gwaine turned to join the others at the table, Merlin sneaked out of the house and in to the old, abandoned forge.  He closed the door, took a step to the right and sank down to the ice cold ground. The hearth had not burned since Gwen´s father died, and that was … more than two years ago? The only light, coming from slits in the timber walls, turned the tools on the workbench and the tools hanging and leaning against the walls to black shadows. Tom had worked with the doors open, the constant burning fire and the heavy work enough to keep him warm.

“Forbærnahn.”

The non-existent wood in the hearth blazed up, lighting every corner of the forge and within moments pleasant warmth spread in the small space. Merlin stared into the magical flames as they changed shape in front to him.

 _Arthur prepared his army of knights, hundreds, maybe thousands of them ready to follow him over the sea, to a foreign country. His face wild, forehead glistening with sweat, when he spurred his horse into gallop, yelling his commands with raving madness._

Merlin gasped and used all his willpower to push the image of a crazy driven Arthur away. It had tormented him for weeks.  The man Merlin knew was growing into a wise, sensible prince and future king was suddenly sacrificing every one of his loyal knights to hunt down Lancelot for the cause of a woman - how could anyone have that influence on him? Then the flames shifted.

 _Gwen lay on her back in a big bed, only covered by a thin chemise.  By the bed, with only his back visible, stood a young man with hair, the same colour as wet sand, slender body, not quite a knight´s but well-defined, the images revealing a strong back and hard muscles as he shed his tunic. He untied his hose, crawled into bed, while toeing off his boots and slipping out of his legwear. He folded himself over Gwen, who slipped her arms around him and caressed his back and hips with lewd motions._

The Gwen he knew would never do these things. What could possibly have happened to make her change so much? How had she become that woman of no virtues that he saw in these prophesies? It had to stop. He better had stopped it by now, or he would never get peace in his life. And that second man with her, so familiar, as if Merlin had already met him.

The orange-yellow flames danced a couple of inches over the hearth. The heat in the forge was almost too much. He untied his neckerchief and pulled the lace in his tunic. A thin layer of sweat covered his body, and he could feel trickles down his chest. He took the neckerchief in hand and padded his forehead, pushing back a wave of nausea.

 _Arthur on the battle field_ , Merlin didn´t know for sure where, a name came to mind – Camlann – he had never heard of it, and it meant nothing. _Arthur had been thrown off his charger, he had lost his sword, his helmet, everywhere around him lay dead men. He was bruised and blood stained as he waded over the corpses of his knights, and enemy knights. He staggered, stumbling on hands, on arms, on feet, too tired to care. Twenty yards or so away from him the last standing enemy knight waited. Arthur pulled his dagger, still convinced he´d make it. The other man was unbroken, when he charged his attack it was with full power. His weight shoved Arthur to the ground, the impact draining him of his last powers and that was when the other man raised his hands high up above his head and let them fall again. The dagger slid through the armour and into the flesh. A slow rivulet of blood trickled through the chainmail. He tried to say something, he tried again, a thin line of blood streamed down the corner of his mouth, suffocating any words he possibly could have wanted to say. The other man rose, took off his helmet and walked by Arthur without turning around, only revealing his sand-coloured hair and slender back when he passed hundreds of fallen men. In the meantime Arthur struggled for breath, and more and more blood passed his mouth in little gushes, colouring his throat, his mail and the ground underneath. Somewhere in the distance a man cried out in pain: “No! Arthur, nooo!”_

With his face buried in his hands, Merlin writhed as if the pain he felt was physical. He sobbed and wailed so hard he had difficulty catching his breath. Finally he coiled up on his side on the still cold dirt floor, arms around his legs and his whole body shaking uncontrollably in time with the endless sobbing.

It would never happen. He had made sure of that. If Arthur never found Gwen and Lancelot tumble in the hay, he would never go overseas to hunt down Lancelot, and the kingdom would never be left vulnerable. Gwen would never take a traitor to her bed and most importantly, the only thing that actually mattered to Merlin, Arthur wouldn´t die. By preventing the first event the others would have to change. This time he had done it right, not like it had been with Morgana. The dragon had helped and he had followed its advice, although he himself had benefitted more if he had not. He could have held Arthur in his arms right now instead of crying his guts out in an abandoned forge. But Arthur´s life was more important than personal affections and desires. Thanks to this betrothal Gwen had chosen the right man and Lancelot could no longer lay claims on her.

After a long time, maybe an eternity, he had no more tears left and he pulled his breath, still shivering, but slow and even. He sat up again slumped against the wall when the door cringed open.

“Merlin?” Gwaine took one step in, eyes widened and mouth gaping at the sight of a fire burning without wood, and then he turned to Merlin. For what seemed like another eternity they just looked at each other. “The princess asked for you.”

Merlin drew another shivering breath. “Really?” The voice came out high pitched and weak. He wanted to hide his red-blotched cry-swollen face from Gwaine and turned away.

“Hey, what´s happened to you?” Gwaine squatted by his side and stroked his still wet cheek.

Arthur´s happened, he wanted to say, but he didn´t have to.

“You shouldn´t be out here all alone, crying over a man who doesn´t even know how to appreciate you.”

Merlin lent into Gwaine´s muscled shoulders, letting his tense body relax a little at the contact with another person´s warmth. Gwaine was always so hot. “It´s not … He knows …” Merlin snuffled and wiped his dripping nose with the arm of his tunic. “I mean it´s not him. It´s just me, Gwaine. Sometimes it´s too much and I don’t know what to do with it.” He waved his hand towards the fire and Gwaine followed.

“Does he know?”

Merlin nodded, and they sat in silence for a while.

“Come on, let´s clean you up.” He offered his hand and pulled him up. “Can´t have you looking all puffed up and red eyed on your Prince´s betrothal feast. We can use the well down the street. I think I saw a bucket outside the cowshed earlier. We´ll use that.”

Gwaine thought he had cried because of Arthur´s union with Gwen. Well, it was better than he knew about the crystal prophesies. And anyway, he had changed them. He had changed the future, Gwen would marry Arthur and make him the best king she could. As for his magic, Gwaine would ask later, he was just a good friend to know now was not the time for it.

xxXxx

“We´re going to The Rising Sun. Are you coming Merlin?” Gwaine asked when they had left the blacksmith´s house a couple of blocks behind.  

Merlin looked between the knights in front of him and Arthur, to his left, took a step forward, hesitated and weighed on his feet.

Arthur wanted to grab hold of his arm. He had already spent more time with Gwaine than Arthur was comfortable with. Only the god knew what the two of them had been up to out in the yard over at Elyan´s and Gwen´s. Once Arthur noticed Merlin was missing, and that had taken much longer than he liked to admit to himself, he alerted Leon, but Gwaine overheard and offered to go fetch him. And the state he had been in.  He really shouldn´t be allowed to cry, it didn’t become him.

“Come on, it´ll be fun. You look like you´ll need some ale!”

Arthur couldn´t agree more with Gwaine, but there was no chance he would ever confess to it. He glanced at Merlin, visibly worn and even paler than usual, almost sick-looking, in the faint moonlight.

“I … I don´t …,”Merlin began, voice still a bit thick.

Ah, what the hell, he had survived the betrothal, he had been the perfect courtier to Gwen and he hadn´t ogled Merlin at all during the night. “Merlin is coming with me. Unlike you, he still has chores to perform. Let´s go, Merlin!”

The only sounds came from the tavern they left behind, loud talking, hollers and some drunken singing but soon the streets lay dark and silent. Merlin soon lagged behind. Arthur turned around to let him catch up.

“What´s wrong with you today?”

He had not meant it to be an accusation, but it came out like one and Merlin flinched.

“Nothing. I´m fine.”

“So what was that all about?” He poked a finger into Merlin´s chest.

“What?” He still sounded small and unnaturally feeble.

“You! You hiding in the yard, crying like a lovesick maiden. That! What were you thinking, Merlin, not at all? The knights were there, Guinevere was there. What if they had noticed?”

“They didn´t. Only Gwaine, and it wasn´t even … It´s not like you think, Arthur.” He squared his shoulders. “Don´t flatter yourself. Not everything is about you.”

He knew he owed so much to Merlin, probably this whole thing with Gwen. He had mercilessly used Merlin to his own advantage with out as much as a second thought about it. He had never asked himself if it was something Merlin wanted to do, he only ever commanded him to do this or that or whatever. Lancelot had obviously been avoiding Merlin the whole evening, and when he thought about it, it had been going on for weeks. Merlin never spoke of him anymore unlike before when he had always had an appreciative word for the man. Even if Arthur had never been interested Merlin had been sure to let him know. And Guinevere had had that accusing-hurt look whenever she saw Merlin, barely recognising him with a greeting when they arrived. So maybe he wasn´t crying over Arthur at all, but over his friends? And that was only the past few weeks. Merlin had come along for every hunt, every quest, every rescue attempt he had gone for the last four and a half years, not to mention the many times he risked his life to safe Arthur´s with his magic, under the ban, under the scrutiny of Uther. And he let him! Thinking a punch in the arm or a slap on the back were signs of appreciation and constant mocking and teasing were enough to let him know how he really felt.

By the time they reached the castle entrance, Arthur was cold with sweat and dry mouthed and desperately thinking of how to say `forgive me’ without having to say the actual words. Their steps clattered against the stairs and echoed when they strode ahead in the hallway, Merlin two or three steps behind the whole time.

“You could have stayed … at Gwen´s. Everyone expected you to.”

They were five, nearly six yards from his doors and he froze in his track.

“It´s customary among commoners, for the groom to be to stay the night. Don´t have to do anything, and if you do … well, that´s fine too.”

He had played with the idea, thought he´d go along with it, it was Gwen, she was nice enough and it was a long time since he had been with a woman, but then he saw Merlin´s miserable face and shaky movements, thin frame leaning against a whispering and smiling Gwaine and something had crumpled his guts.

“Don´t be ridiculous, Merlin. I´m the Crown Prince, not a lowly peasant.” The words slipped out of old habit before he could bite his lip. “Sorry – I didn´t mean it like that!” When he turned around to face Merlin they were only a few inches apart. When had he come so close? And why did he look so damn enticing, chapped lips and red nose in spite?

“I didn´t stay because I wanted to be with you,” he blurted. “Satisfied?”

A faint fire still burnt at the hearth when Arthur locked the door to his own chambers behind them. He unbuttoned his jacket and tossed it on the floor, next he toed off his boots and turned to Merlin, still standing immobile by the door.

“What? I cannot want to spend time with you anymore? I always thought you wanted us to be friends? I thought we were.” Silent, incredulous-looking Merlin made him fidgety and cranky. He liked straight forward communication, receiving orders, taking action, taking on a task, resolving it. This silent, brooding, troubled Merlin he just didn´t understand. “Surely you understand by now how necessary it is for Camelot to have a queen worthy her. Guinevere has always had her heart in the right place. She will be good for Camelot. Good for me.” Still no reaction. What was he waiting for? They had been over this. There was nothing he could do about it. Things were as they were. He hid a yawn behind the back of his hand and squeezed his forehead with stern fingers. “I can´t give you what you want, Merlin.” He looked into the fire and watched as the flames grew higher and the warmth increased so much he could feel it where he stood in the middle of the room.

“Why not?” Merlin´s voice was soft and pleading. “You want to, so why not? You wouldn´t be the first, or the last, prince or king to keep a paramour.”

“If it got out,” he gulped hard, fiddled with the tunic strings. “It wouldn´t be right …”

“No one would have to know.”

“It wouldn´t be fair on you. Having to share me …”

“Within these walls,” he looked around in the room, “I wouldn´t have to share. When the door is closed it´s just you and me.”

They were only inches apart and the black cloak fell to the floor with a muffled thump. He wanted to ask about this new garment of his, but now was not the time. Heat radiated from Merlin´s body, as if they were already touching, and it made Arthur comfortably dizzy, like he had been drinking wine and not ale. His gaze narrowed down to Merlin´s half open mouth, all red and lush, and when the tip of his tongue darted out and licked his lower lip, Arthur could have sworn his own heart skipped a beat. He closed his eyes in order to regain some sanity. Merlin pressed their foreheads together, one hand cradled the back of his head, and with the other his fingers trailed the tense muscles in Arthur´s neck with feather light touches, cool pads against sensitive skin. He shivered and nodded.

The last inches between them became extinct when Arthur clasped Merlin´s hips and pulled them together and roamed sharp hipbones and loins through thin wool fabric. He nibbled the visible neck tendon with lips and teeth and then licked his way up and along the jawline and Merlin guided their mouths together. The slow tingle in his crotch grew to flaming sparks even before they opened up and kissed wholeheartedly, tongues stroking along half parted lips, then darting inside, licking, latching, lapping, hard and unrepentant. Merlin tasted of minerals and something sweeter indefinable and Arthur couldn´t get enough of it. He moaned low and needy into that wet, hot mouth. He never ever wanted to let go so he latched on to Merlin not only with his kisses but his whole body, flushed against the other man´s.

“Arthur!” Merlin´s voice so hoarse it was almost unrecognisable. “Not like this. Please! Bed!” He had to force Arthur apart, bent his arms back and extricated himself from his grip and put yards between them while heading for the bed. “I want … I want to be naked … in bed … with you.” He breathed hard and wasted no time, untied the thin leather belt he wore with his tunic. It fell where he stood to the floor. With a swift motion he pulled his tunic over his head, toed off his boots and went straight for the string holding his braies up.

Arthur felt deprived and cold but also exited while his manservant, for the very first time, undressed in front of him. The hurried, heat-of-the-moment, half-dressed humping in the Forest of Ascetir was nothing compared to this. The stripping was efficient and hurried but no less of a turn on for Arthur. He couldn´t help but gape when Merlin with his thumbs down the braies´ waste band shed his last piece of garment and stood in front of him – naked. Arthur stifled a groan. Oh, dear goods. That was … amazing. So beautiful, all that pale, white skin over long, square limbs and wide shoulders, light dusting of dark hair over his chest, flat stern stomach and the trail of black hair from navel and down. He licked his lips. Merlin´s cock, that hard, fat, gorgeous cock twitched with Merlin´s every breath, the black curls framing it and, Arthur almost couldn´t watch, the sac huge and heavy. He would bury his head between those legs and intoxicate himself with the heady sent and raw taste he no doubt would find there. He would lick a wet stripe up that vein before taking the head between his lips and suck, letting his hand squeeze those heavy balls till he could feel them going all taut and Merlin would spill his relief down Arthur´s throat. He cupped himself through his hose, bucking into the pressure.

“Arthur! Arthur, come here, please.” Merlin sat on the bed and patted the mattress next to him.

When he was within reach Merlin hauled him in by a tug to his wrist and he settled between bare, wide spread knees. He closed his eyes so he wouldn´t be overwhelmed by the sight of Merlin untying his hose and braies. A small whine crossed his lips when cold air hit the naked skin of his crotch and then Merlin´s fingers followed the protruding vein along the underside of his rock-hard cock. When the same finger nudged the pre-come pearled at the slit he opened them again. Merlin had touched him a few times before, as had other men, and women, but this, a lover in his bed and Merlin naked were new to him. He pulled off his tunic and stepped out of his leg-wear. With his hands to Merlin´s shoulders he pushed him backwards and laid himself on top, nuzzled his ear, smelt his hair, licked his throat and grinded down hard and persistent. Merlin panted in his ear, folded his legs around Arthur´s waist and quivered under him. If they kept up it would all be over in a moment so he pulled back, dragging his fingernails along that delicious pale skin and over tiny, pink nipples while doing so.

“Have you ever …?” He brushed against the cleft between Merlin´s buttocks.

“No. Not that. You?”

Arthur nodded, mouth too dry to answer, and bent down by the cupboard next to the bed to produce a small clay jar from the bottom shelf. Merlin half-sat in the middle of the bed when he turned around, eyes shifty and the former proud erection sagging a little.

“No? We don´t have to. It´s just … I like it. I´d like you to … with me.” He felt the heat spread from his face to his shoulders and upper chest. He never succumbed his inner desires like that, not even to the men he had been with, not that they were many. His first man, a knight of his father, had thought him love between men after a disastrous first visit to a brothel. He had been fifteen, maybe sixteen, and he still remembered the man´s huge fingers on him, calloused hands on his young skin, it should have hurt, instead the man had taken him bent over on all fours in the hay out in the stables before taking him back to the castle, and Arthur had cried out his pleasure into the man´s hand as he tried to silence him. The same man had later brought him back to the brothel and thought him how to deal with women as well. One day his father sent the man on patrol and he never returned. Since then Arthur had never had a man in Camelot, and none at all since Merlin came into his life. Merlin´s voice brought him back.

“You want me to … with you?” He palmed his once more erect cock and Arthur nodded again. “Come here!” He moved over and Arthur crawled in next to him.

Arthur handed the little jar to Merlin and positioned himself on his back, legs bent and wide spread and Merlin kneeled in front of him. But instead of going straight for his cock and arse he cradled himself over Arthur, joined them from chest to crotch and showered him with wet kisses all over his face and hair. This close Merlin was nothing but sharp cheekbones, suckable lips, deep blue eyes and long black lashes and a musky sent of man. Arthur sniffed the hollow in his throat, bent his neck and smelt the dark warm armpit, black hairs, damp with sweat, tickled his nose. He fondled Merlin´s back, shoulder blades jutting out, the band of knobs along his spine. His hands fit perfect around that firm, little arse, and he was just about to grind them together when Merlin broke loose, sat back and settled in between his knees and poured some of the contents of the jar in his hand.

Arthur reached for a pillow and shoved it under his arse easing access for Merlin. The oil trickled down bony fingers and over a gaunt wrist and then the slick hand brushed over his already taut sac and the delicate skin under it. Whimpering sounds of anticipation escaped his throat, made him sound like a wanton whore, and he arched up into the light touch, letting out another groan.

“Come on. Do it already.”

His index finger easily slipped in. Merlin´s surprised inhale the only other sound, except for a faint crackle from the fire.

“Another!”

He took two and then three just as easily, grinding down on them, enjoying Merlin´s flushed face, eyes black with desire and cock smeared with trickling pre-come.

“I´m ready. Take me … now!”

Merlin twisted his fingers one last time, pulling a desperate, husky: “Now, Merlin!”: from Arthur, then withdrew, fumbled for the jar, poured some more oil and slicked up. Arthur rested his right leg on Merlin´s shoulder and folded his left around his waist, the position allowed him to cant his hips to meet the poking head of Merlin´s cock at just the right angle. Merlin leant over him and kissed his lips gingerly. Their eyes locked and Merlin pushed once, hard and determined, burying himself completely. The swift, sudden motion pulled a surprised groan of pained pleasure from Arthur. It felt so much more than a couple of fingers, the intense stretch, almost too much, when the hard length filled him completely. When Merlin´s surprised expression, a flicker of worry in his eyes, and a mumbled “sorry, sorry” caught up with Arthur, he yanked him closer by a tug to his hair and kissed him. Merlin relaxed and answered eagerly and in time of just a few breaths Arthur´s body had willingly adjusted to the intrusion. With a guiding hand on Merlin´s buttocks he rolled his hips to meet every one of Merlin´s thrusts and increased the toe-curling sensation threatening to sweep him away faster than he liked to.

“Arthur. It´s too much. I won´t last.” Merlin stilled, panted heavily, resting his weight on his hands and pushed back to allow a glance down between their aligned bodies.

“You better. I´m not done yet.”  He twitched his hips, just a little, because it was impossible to remain still, the tingling feeling accumulating inside of him. The look on Merlin´s face, strained and flushed and naked with desire only turned him on even more.

After what seemed for ever, Merlin looked at him through half shut lids and nodded, and slowly rocked his hips back and forth, Arthur arching up to meet his movements, feeling every inch of him slipping in and out. It had been so long ago, and it felt so, so good. Soft moans mixed with whimpers and hoarser grunts as they kept going. Merlin now dictated the pace, hitting that sweet spot inside on almost every inward thrust, quickly tearing Arthur apart. The rhythm increased, each thrust more forceful than the previous. Merlin, breathing erratically, slammed his cock balls-deep every time without precaution, his sac slapping against Arthurs arse with an obscene sound, and Arthur reached between them, and worked himself at the same ruthless pace.

He cried out shameless, load and carnal, when he came and came. Come spurted hot over his stomach and chest, smeared itself over Merlin while he kept squeezing and squeezing until he was spent on every last drop. He then lifted his head to catch Merlin´s lips, the corner of his mouth, his jaw with his own mouth tasting the salty sweat covering the pale skin,  while Merlin pushed in one, two times, tensed and fell onto him as he spilled his seed deep inside with a strangled groan. With his mouth to Arthur´s neck he quieted a softer whimper and relaxed heavy on top, smearing the come between them even more.

After Merlin carefully, a little at a time, pulled out, well spent and only half-hard by now, he tucked Arthur in before accompanying him under the cover. Arthur shifted a little so he could rest against Merlin´s chest, his arse sore and wet. He should get up and clean himself, only he didn´t want to leave the bed or his sweet, lovely company - ever. It would have to wait till morning. He heard Merlin´s heartbeats, stroked his hand over the sticky-dry skin of his stomach. “I love you – till the day I die.” It was barely audible but Merlin´s grip on him hardened. “I love you too, always.”

They lay for a long time, content and lax in each other’s arms. The air in the room was chillier than it had been. He wondered if Merlin enchanted not only the fire in the hearth, of which flames still reflected soft shadows on the walls, but the whole room. But then again it could have been the proximity between two hot bodies in motion. It didn´t matter, he was warm under the cover, his front flat against Merlin´s side.

 Merlin´s breath turned deeper and steadier by the moment. He was falling asleep.

“Father might abdicate. He´s said so himself. Maybe even soon.” Arthur lifted his head, resting on his elbow.

“Yeah? Well, you´ll be a fine ruler,” Merlin mumbled reassuringly, voice heavy with sleep, “and a great king one day.” He opened his eyes and smiled at Arthur. “And Gwen will stand by your side, just as she has this last year.”

“And you will be my stunning court magician, trying not to make a fool of himself or tripping over his own two feet every other step he takes.”

Merlin chuckled low. “Everything will be fine, trust me.” He stroked Arthur´s shoulder and then his chin and hair.

“You sound so sure of it?”

“I am.” He looked away, towards the hearth. “ You will be the greatest king ever heard of and the name of Albion will echo through centuries.” He placed a peck on Arthur´s nose and grinned. “There will be stories told about you. Stories about King Arthur, his beautiful queen and the noble and brave knights of the round table. “ He winked mischievously and placed another peck on his forehead this time.

“And don´t forget his magician and personal adviser, the great Merlin.” Arthur kissed him on the mouth, slow and lingering.

“Yeah, that too. Now go to sleep, you supercilious prat, and stop worrying. Everyone will still be here tomorrow morning.” He dragged Arthur down on his chest again and clutched him hard. “Everything will be fine. I´ll see to that. Don´t you worry.”

Moments later his breath was slow and steady again but even in his sleep his grip on Arthur remained tightly secured. Arthur sighed. Merlin seemed sure now, in this little private space of theirs, but earlier in the evening he had been a wreck. Wishful dreaming really wasn´t Arthur´s thing. No man could know what the future held. For all he knew, it could look perfectly good today, but bad weather, enemy armies or the wrath of a fickle god might devastate everything tomorrow. To think one could escape ones destiny, good or bad, wasn´t just foolish it was hubris. And everyone knew what happened to those who tried.

 

 


End file.
